<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Right One by waywardodysseys</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23468620">The Right One</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardodysseys/pseuds/waywardodysseys'>waywardodysseys</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Chris Evans - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adoption, Dogs, F/M, Fluff, Neighbors, single dad, single parent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 05:42:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,395</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23468620</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardodysseys/pseuds/waywardodysseys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You inherited your grandmother's house in Sudbury and decide to move to the suburb for a change of scenery.</p><p>You didn't expect an actor and his son to become a part of your quiet and mundane life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chris Evans (Actor) &amp; Reader, Chris Evans (Actor) &amp; You, Chris Evans (Actor)/Reader, Chris Evans (Actor)/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This published on Tumblr under the same name.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chris sits nervously as he waits for the social worker to walk through the door. His heart pounds as his leg bounces uncontrollably. He swipes a hand through his hair as he thinks of the first thing he and Theodore will do once they leave the group home. In a few minutes it will be official – Chris Evans is a father, a proud father, of an adoptive son.</p><p><br/>
“Mister Evans?”</p><p><br/>
Chris immediately stands up and straightens his clothes. He smiles widely as the social worker walks through the door with Theodore. Chris bends so he is at his son’s height.</p><p><br/>
The bubbly six year old skips towards Chris and wraps his arms tightly around Chris’ neck.</p><p><br/>
“Time to go home?”</p><p><br/>
Chris holds in the tears as he hugs the boy tightly. This is actually happening. “Yes. Time to go home. Your forever home.”</p><p><br/>
“Great!” Theodore squeaks out before letting go.</p><p><br/>
Chris stands to his full height, looking at the social worker. “Thank you. For everything.”</p><p><br/>
The elderly woman pushes the clear plastic glasses she wears up her nose and smiles, “you’re welcome. It’s been a joy helping you find the right child. Your son.”</p><p><br/>
<em>My son</em>, Chris thinks as he takes Theodore’s bag and then his small hand. <em>I’m a father</em>.</p><p><br/>
Chris had been wanting a family of his own for years. He had been raised in an enormous family. He had two sisters and a brother. Multitudes of cousins and other relatives. He had his nieces and nephews.</p><p><br/>
Chris hadn’t found <em>the one</em>, either. Relationships came and went. He had his heart broken various times over the course of nearly 39 years. He had broken some in return too. His heart longed for love, for finding the right woman to spend forever with, but with his busy work life love didn’t seem to be in the cards. Yet with the role of Captain America in the past and his schedule clearing up, he could focus on what matters most – starting a family, even if it meant a less traditional route.</p><p><br/>
His parents had adopted his younger sister. Chris knew there are plenty of kids in the world who needed a forever home. He also knew there were kids needing a home right here in Boston, so he began his search and got in touch with a social worker. She helped him with playdates and relationship-building sessions to find the right one.</p><p><br/>
Chris couldn’t find a perfect match, not at first. It took several months until the social worker found Theodore.</p><p><br/>
“Theodore has no one,” she had told him when they arrived at his group home two months ago, “he was abandoned at a hospital downtown. No one claimed him. Several foster parents mistreated him when he was a baby so he came to be at the group home when he turned two. No one’s really taken a chance on the boy.”</p><p><br/>
Chris had taken in the amber tint of his brown hair, the jade green color of his eyes. He had seen the boy’s wide eyed smile then heard the giggly laugh. Chris knew he had found his son.</p><p><br/>
“I’ll take the chance,” Chris had said with a confident and vibrant smile.</p><p><br/>
<em>Yes</em>, Chris now thinks as he and Theodore make their way out into the cool Boston spring air, <em>this was the best chance I had ever taken</em>.</p><p><br/>
 -------</p><p><br/>
You walk the aisles of the local supermarket. Pushing the cart absentmindedly, wondering between aisles. Your eyes scan the list in your hand, most of it crossed off except for ice cream and toppings.</p><p><br/>
You were in charge of game night this week. A small get together with friends. They were coming to see the house you had poured your heart and soul into over the last few months.</p><p><br/>
Your grandmother had left her Sudbury home to you, which was a complete shock because you had preferred the family farm because of your writing career. The farmhouse was quiet and secluded, far from the hustle and bustle of the city.</p><p><br/>
You inwardly sigh as you approach the freezer aisle and begin walking down it. You grab a container of chocolate and vanilla then make your way further down the aisle and stop at the toppings section and grab a few things – chocolate and caramel sauce, sprinkles, cherries, candied nuts, and whipped cream.</p><p><br/>
Eventually making it through the checkout line and getting everything into the car, you drive back to the house and begin to unload. Your merle colored Australian Shepherd greets you at the back door as you open it widely. You have a heavy reusable in one hand and a light bag in the other.</p><p><br/>
She bounds out of the door, nearly making you trip over your own feet and fall into the house.</p><p><br/>
“Damnit!” You utter as you hurried inside of the house to place the bags down on the counter.</p><p><br/>
You run out of the house, moving your feet quickly as you search the backyard.</p><p><br/>
“Winter!?” You shout. “Winter?!”</p><p><br/>
She doesn’t come running from either direction as you spin on your heels.</p><p><br/>
You had been staying at the house for close to a month now. You had made sure to walk her every day, or at least every day, to accumulate her to the neighborhood. The neighborhood was quiet and mundane. You saw parents walking their children to and from school. Cars obeyed the signs, and the law. You saw elderly neighbors tend to their gardens. You were beginning to like being back in the suburbs.</p><p><br/>
Silence surrounds you as you feel defeated. You collapse to the ground and bury your head against your chest, trying to regain your normal breathing pattern.</p><p><br/>
A light giggle and deep chuckle from yards away break the serenity of the stillness.</p><p><br/>
“What a friendly doggy!” The childlike voice remarks.</p><p><br/>
You look up and into the jade eyes of a young boy. You see Winter looking at you with curiosity and sadness. You then look further up and into the blue eyes of a grown man.</p><p><br/>
“Yours?” He asks, motioning to the dog.</p><p><br/>
“Uh, yes,” you sigh as you scramble to your feet.</p><p><br/>
Chris holds out his hand. “I’m Chris. This is my son Theodore.” He motions towards the house. “You’re the one who bought the old Y/L/N house?”</p><p><br/>
“Well, not really,” you shake his hand and smile, “I’m Y/F/N Y/L/N.”</p><p><br/>
“Oh,” Chris is taken back but smiles. “It’s nice to meet you Y/N.”</p><p><br/>
You let go of Chris’ strong hand, “I see you two have already met Winter. It's nice to meet you too. And Theodore of course.”</p><p><br/>
The boy smiles brightly as he hands you the leash Winter is on. “Nice to meet you too!”</p><p><br/>
You laugh lightly, “I hope to see you two around the neighborhood.”</p><p><br/>
Chris nods, “same,” he looks down at Theodore and brushes his shoulder, “we should get back. Family dinner’s tonight.”</p><p><br/>
Theodore looks up at his father and nods.</p><p><br/>
You watch them walk away then move your feet towards the open back door and walk in. You unhook the leash and look at it. It isn’t yours.</p><p><br/>
You close the back door as you head back out, trying to catch up with them but you don’t. They are nowhere to be found.</p><p><br/>
You stand quietly for seconds before you turn back around and head into the house. You place the red plaid leash on the hook next to the door. Hoping they'll come back and claim what’s theirs.  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The blinking cursor taunts you. It’s thin black line ready to travel over the page as your fingers move across the keyboard. You sigh heavily, hoping the words will come but they don’t. They seem to be right there on the edge, but they never want to appear. You’ve had a difficult time writing lately, especially since your grandmother passed away and the house became the center of your attention.</p><p>Your editor has been begging for new work close to four months now. She’d call and pester you about the need for new material and you’d say, “I’m working on it.”</p><p>She’d then retort with, “fans are clamoring for the next book Y/N.”</p><p>“I know,” you’d hiss at her. You loved your editor but there were times she was a thorn in your side you couldn’t get rid of.</p><p>Winter now walks into the room. The jingle of her tags drawing your attention away from the laptop and to her. She sits and looks at you, tilts her head.</p><p>You need to get out of the house, out into the fresh air of the world.</p><p>“How about we go to the dog park?”</p><p>Winter’s tail begins wagging. It doesn’t stop as you get up, walk out of the office and downstairs.</p><p>You reach for her leash and stop. Her tattered purple leash hangs next to the red plaid one Chris and Theodore had used to bring her back to you. They hadn’t come by and gotten it. Though it’s only been a few days.</p><p>Your fingers trace down the material as you think about the two.</p><p>You had noticed who Chris was when you laid your eyes on him, but you had no idea the actor had a son, let alone a girlfriend or wife. You had been living in the country not under a rock and had heard various rumors the actor wanted a family and kids, but he was continuously single after a breakup a couple of years ago.</p><p>Winter’s yappy bark removes your focus from your thoughts and back to grabbing the purple leash. You hook the leash on her collar then grab the car keys on the counter.</p><p>“Let’s hope the fresh air does us both some good.”</p><p>*</p><p>The smell of fresh cut grass moves through the breeze as you sit on a bench within the dog park you brought Winter to. Happy dog barks and children playing greet your ears as you eye Winter playing with a couple other dogs.</p><p>She had enjoyed the open air and free roam of the farm, just like you had. Both of you had to accustom yourself to life in the suburbs. While you were adjusting to being back in a city, Winter had been raised on the farm, all the dog knew was farm life.</p><p>You had known the farm life when you were younger. Living on the family farm every summer until you went to college. You had returned on occasion but remained faithful to finding work in Chicago, spinning out short stories and eventually moving onto novels. You were working on a final book, not your last book, but a final book in a beloved series you held close to your heart.</p><p>Maverick was a heroine you had created after a painful breakup, which made you move out to family farm over five years ago. Your grandmother had seen your broken heart and gave you Winter.</p><p>“You need something,” she emphasized when she handed you the six-month-old puppy.</p><p>You had sighed heavily, knowing you weren’t going to win, and took the fragile puppy into your hands. One eye dark as night, the other eye bright as the snow. You hadn’t like snow for a name therefore deciding on Winter. She had been by your side since.</p><p>Then your grandmother had passed away a few months ago, making the holidays unbearable. She had been the only person in your family to understand why you wanted to move away from your parents, to move away from the life you had here once upon a time.</p><p>“Can I sit with you?”</p><p>A small but familiar voice breaks through your thoughts. You look over into jade green eyes.</p><p>You shake your head, “of course you can. Where’s your dad?”</p><p>Theo points towards the parking lot. You follow the direction of his arm. “Ladies like my dad a lot, they show up if we leave the house. It’s really annoying sometimes.”</p><p>You laugh and smile, “I don’t see anyone bombarding him today.”</p><p>Theo huffs and rolls his eyes, “just wait.”</p><p>-------</p><p>Chris pulls into the parking lot, finds a spot, and parks the SUV. Theo’s already opening the door as Chris removes the keys from the ignition.</p><p>“Careful Theo!” Chris calls after him. He smiles looking at Dodger and his son, unsure who is dragging who towards the entrance of the dog park.</p><p>His blue eyes roam over the scene before him.</p><p>Not a cloud in sight as the bright spring sun shines brightly. Trees budding green leaves as the grass begins to slowly grow in the warmer weather. Children laughing and playing, most at the playground, others inside of the fenced in dog park playing with their beloved pet. Then he spots her.</p><p>The neighbor from down the street. Her eyes are searching for her Australian Shepherd, which has made its way towards the entrance to greet Dodger.</p><p>Theo unhooks the leash and proceeds towards her. Chris watches as she smiles widely and nods her head, recognizing the young child. He points in Chris’ direction and her eyes follow as her smile remains. She raises her eyebrows and then laughs. Chris is now dying to know what his son had told her.</p><p>Chris makes his way towards the entrance, thankful none of the regulars have noticed him. He was getting tired of the attention he got, even in his hometown. Chris walks through the gated entrance to the dog park towards Theo and the neighbor. Their voices carrying over to his ears.</p><p>“Why Winter? Because she looks like a snowflake. I would’ve named her snowflake.”</p><p>“Because—,” you begin.</p><p>Theo continues without taking a breath, “dad has Dodger. I’ve never had a dog before Dodger. I always wanted a dog, but the other foster homes never had any and the group home didn’t allow pets.”</p><p>You smile as you take in his words. “I’m sure Dodger enjoys having a kid around.”</p><p>Theo smiles brightly, “he sleeps in my room on my bed with me. He used to sleep with dad, but dad said I need protecting so dad told him to watch over me and now Dodger sleeps in my room. On my bed.”</p><p>“Well your dad’s not wrong. A dog protects fiercely, just like a parent does,” you reply, finally able to get in a word between Theodore’s rapid firing of information.</p><p>Chris laughs and shakes his head. Theo was full of questions. What kid wouldn’t be? He admires your understanding as you try to get in a word edgewise and answer his questions.</p><p>“Theo,” Chris remarks as he approaches the bench, “go find a ball and get Dodger moving. We need to wear him out. Maybe get Winter worn out too. I’m sure our friendly neighbor would like a quiet evening at home with her dog resting.”</p><p>“Okay,” Theo sighs heavily as he gets up and walks away.</p><p>Chris hears you chuckle as he watches his son find one of the many tennis balls on the ground and calls Dodger and Winter. He then proceeds to move his eyes to you.</p><p>“Thank you,” Chris utters.</p><p>“You’re welcome.” Knowing Chris appreciated you for engaging with Theo and not turning him away.</p><p>You two are quiet as you both watch Theo play with Dodger and Winter. The two dogs playing happily together. You smile and lower your head. Winter’s only interactions with other dogs were here and she rarely played with other dogs because she was more focused on you and being your side.</p><p>You clear your throat as the silence begins to become too much, “your son said he was in foster care. How long ago did you adopt him?”</p><p>Chris glances at you sideways then sighs, “beginning of the week.”</p><p>“Still trying to figure out each other?”</p><p>“We’ve done relationship building activities for the past two months while everything was getting approved. Gone dozens of places, met my family. I’ve kept everything hidden from the outside world. I’m not ready for people to know I’m a dad.”</p><p>“But you are a dad. An official one. And by the looks of things,” you point to the small boy chasing the two dogs, “a good one too.”</p><p>“I’ve wanted my own family for a few years but with my work I couldn’t find the time. Couldn’t find the right person,” Chris utters under his breath.</p><p>“And now you have the time with the superhero business behind you.”</p><p>Chris gives a lopsided smile, “so I guess you <em>do</em> know who I am.”</p><p>“I do but I’m not intrigued by that perspective of you. I’m intrigued by the man who gave that,” you point once again towards Theodore, “kid a chance.”</p><p>“I saw him, heard his giggly laugh and knew he was the one. Glad I took the chance. I wouldn’t exchange him for another kid.”</p><p>“He’s enthralled by you. Must be excited that Captain America is his dad. I’m sure you’d be willing to take a chance on another kid.”</p><p>Chris shrugs, “I’d love a daughter too. Best of both worlds. Maybe a couple of years down the road I’ll adopt a girl,” Chris turns towards you, “what about you?”</p><p>You shrug, “not much to tell. Grew up in the Midwest, spent my summers on the family farm out here. My grandmother owned the house I’m currently living in.”</p><p>“Family farm?”</p><p>“Up near Princeton. My uncle and his wife lived there before they retired and moved down to Florida. They had no kids, left the place to me about seven years ago. I officially moved in five years ago after a painful breakup.”</p><p>“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”</p><p>You shrug, “it’s fine. It’s in the past. I created something from it and I’m proud of my creation.”</p><p>Chris raises his eyebrows, “creation?”</p><p>You smirk, “stop by a bookstore. You know my name.”</p><p>-------</p><p>A couple hours later Chris is driving Theo and Dodger home when he drives by Concord Bookshop. He looks over at Theo.</p><p>“You mind if we stop at the bookstore?”</p><p>Theo smiles, “can I get some books on dinosaurs?”</p><p>Chris grins and laughs, “of course buddy.”</p><p>Theo throws his arms in the air, “yes!”</p><p>Once inside the local bookstore, Chris finds a bookseller while Theo wonders off to the children’s section.</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>The older gentleman looks at Chris over his glasses. “How may I help you?”</p><p>“I am looking for anything by Y/F/N Y/L/N.”</p><p>The older gentleman thinks, “do you want <em>Creative Rebirth</em> or the Maverick series?”</p><p>“Uh, I was given her name on a recommendation.”</p><p>“Her <em>Creative Rebirth</em> is a self-help slash journal project. The Maverick series is fantasy. Dark, gritty, apocalyptic.”</p><p>“Both.” Chris remarks.</p><p>The older gentleman begins moving his feet through some of the displays and tall bookcases, leading Chris over to the Self-Help section. The man scans a shelf and pulls out a book, handing it over to Chris.</p><p>Chris begins to flip through the pages of the paperback book.</p><p>“She explains how creativity gives someone a chance to reinvent themselves, a chance to remake who they are and move on from the past. I recommend you check out the website, plenty of people post their creative innovations on it.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Chris whispers.</p><p>“Let me take you to the Sci-Fi section,” the bookseller leads Chris to another part of the bookstore. “After she wrote <em>Creative Rebirth</em>, she decided to follow through with her own advice and began writing the Maverick series.”</p><p>*</p><p>After getting Theo and Dodger into bed, Chris makes his way through the house towards his bedroom. He did miss the four-legged dog in his bed but knew Dodger was attached to the kid since they had first met a couple of months ago.</p><p>Once Chris was in comfortable clothes and settled into his own bed, he grabs the copy of <em>Creative Rebirth</em> and turns to the first page -</p><p>             </p><p>
  <em>I stared into two eyes – one dark as night, one bright as day. I was lost, forever lost in those eyes. My grandmother told me I needed something when she handed me the six-month-old puppy. She was right but my grandmother didn’t know this six-month-old puppy was going to be my saving grace.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>~</em>
</p><p>
  <em>My heart was broken in the budding days of spring in the year 2013. I remember the day clearly even though a pounding thunderstorm was beating down over the city of Chicago.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>